Page 17 of A Clean Sweep

‘Tried it once. Hated it. So did Bob.’ Bob was Derwyn's ex, a man so hirsute he made ZZ Top look clean shaven.

‘He said it looked creepy. Wouldn't sleep with me again until it had grown back in. Then the bastard ran off with a Sinead O'Connor lookalike. Go figure.’

Derwyn wasn't wearing the expression of a woman heartbroken and crushed.

Quite the opposite. With her tumbling auburn curls, sparkling hazel eyes and wickedly contagious laugh she exuded sex appeal.

Coupled to a Swansea accent unchanged by years in England she attracted attention wherever she went.

And always spoke her mind, invited or not.

She'd only been with Ed a few months and Tabitha wasn't sure he was a match for her friend.

Definitely punching above his weight, if she was totally honest.

‘So, Tabitha. How're things with Tom? I'm surprised he let you out tonight.

Shouldn't you two be getting hot and heavy between episodes of Game of Thrones ?’ Derwyn leaned back, creamy cleavage thrust forward.

A chap at the bar did a dramatic double-take, narrowly missing tossing his drink into the lap of his unamused girlfriend.

Tabitha fiddled with the ends of her scarf and took another swig of her drink.

‘OK, I guess. Well, not really OK. More like a bit rubbish to be honest.’

To her dismay she felt tears brimming. Where had they come from? It wasn't as if the relationship was on the rocks, was it? Just a few lumps and bumps which was perfectly normal. Except, more and more she wondered what the future held for them. If, in fact, they had one.

‘Gosh, Tabitha, I had no idea! Why didn't you say something before?’ Derwyn squeezed in next to her friend and gave her an enormous hug, producing a packet of tissues from her pocket.

‘I don't know. Maybe I'm just being silly. I mean, Tom's lovely really. At least, he is when he isn't forgetting important things or leaving his toenail clippings lying around for me to sit on.’ Derwyn and Fiona both giggled, well versed in Tom's quirks and foibles.

‘But he's just so lush!’ exclaimed Derwyn in her husky Welsh tones. ‘You look so great together. Is there something you're not telling us? Does he have a dark, violent side? A serious porn addiction? Or does he like dressing up in your bras and panties?’

Tabitha let out a snort of laughter. The thought of Tom squeezing his muscular frame into her minuscule undies wasn't an appealing one.

He was certainly not the violent type, laid-back to the point of being horizontal.

Which he often was when glued to his only real addiction, Top Gear .

He smoked the odd cigarette but that wasn't enough to justify dumping him.

So, what was the problem? Was she just being too picky?

She knew she was a million miles from perfect.

She wasn't seeking perfection, just a sense that she had found the person who brought out the best in her and who made her feel special. And the same in reverse.

‘None of the above, thankfully. Sorry guys, just having a wobbly moment. Must be the time of the month or something.’

Tabitha knew she couldn't properly explain to her friends where her doubts were coming from when she had trouble rationalising them herself.

Better to keep quiet for now. She glanced at her watch.

Only 10.30 but she was already sleepy and suddenly wanted to go home and be with Tom.

Snuggle up on the sofa watching some crap TV and reassure herself that all was fine.

No need to panic. Everybody had their ups and downs and they'd get through this, recapture some of the early magic when they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

When trivial matters didn't even scratch the surface of their shiny, new togetherness.

‘Sorry girls, but I'm going to call it a night. Catch up again soon?’

Tabitha shrugged on her coat, hugging each of her friends in turn and assuring them that all was well. With promises to arrange another get together in the next couple of weeks she left the warmth and buzz of the bar for the short walk home.

‘Hello! I'm back already! Did you miss me?’

The house was deathly quiet. The small table lamp was on in the hallway, but the lounge was in total darkness.

Tabitha called upstairs but there was no reply.

She wondered if Tom had gone to bed early but that would have been completely out of character.

He often stayed up until the small hours of the morning watching TV or flicking around on his laptop.

The only time she could recall he'd retreated to bed before midnight was when he'd had a serious bout of man flu.

That had been fun, listening to him sniffling and coughing and complaining that death was just around the corner.

She'd imagined the Grim Reaper waiting patiently, scythe in one hand, box of Lemsip in the other.

In the kitchen, she flicked on the overhead light and saw a note propped up against the bread bin. She picked it up and read it.

Hey, Tabitha. Hope you had a fun evening. Clive and Keith invited me out for a few pints. Might crash at Clive's. He's got the entire box set of The Sopranos. Tried your phone but it was switched off. See ya. Tom x

Tabitha pulled out her phone. She hadn't realised it was off. She switched it back on, saw three missed calls from Tom and one from her mother. She debated calling her back then noticed there was also a text message.

Hello darling. Hope all ok with you. Just wanted to catch up. Nothing urgent. Chat soon. Love you. Mum xx

Trudging upstairs Tabitha felt wearier than ever.

She didn't have a problem with Tom going out with his mates.

She didn't mind if he stayed out all night and watched back to back episodes of mobsters going about their day to day brutal existences.

What she did mind was the hollowness she felt deep in her core.

The feeling she couldn't shake that there should be more. Much more.

Once she'd brushed her teeth, scrubbed off her make-up and clambered into bed, Tabitha realised what had been niggling at her from the moment she'd read Tom's note.

'See ya', he'd signed off. With only one kiss.

Almost eighteen months together and neither of them had ever used the L word.

Why? Tabitha was a naturally affectionate person and scarcely a day had gone by when she hadn't said 'love you' to her mum, either in person or by phone or text.

She'd never really thought about it until now.

Tom always called her 'gorgeous' or 'beautiful' or, occasionally, 'grumpy pants' when she was in a strop about something, but he'd never actually said he loved her. And she had never said she loved him.

Tabitha turned off the bedside lamp. She often drifted off with some random song playing in her head – earworms, wasn't that the term? – and tonight was no exception. ‘Time To Say Goodbye’. She rolled over and prayed for sleep to come quickly.